


Like Something From a Fairytale

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke meets a cute hospital patient and refuses to be embarrassed about what she's wearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Something From a Fairytale

“Hello?”

Clarke knocks on the doorframe as she sticks her head into the room. The man in the hospital bed sits up a little, squinting at her despite the glasses perched on his nose.

“Hi… Princess,” he says uncertainly, shooting her a confused smile. It’s a nice smile, dimpled and bright against his tan skin and dark curls. “Is this a hallucination, or are you actually dressed like Elsa?”

“I’m actually dressed like Elsa,” she confirms. She's determined not to be embarrassed, even if there is a cute, bewildered man staring at her. “I’m looking for Octavia Blake? She told me to meet her here.”

“She went to the bathroom. You’re welcome to wait,” he says, gesturing to the chair beside his bed. “Come on, Princess,” he says as she debates with herself. “I’ve been watching soap operas for the past three hours. This is the most interesting thing to happen to me all day. I don’t bite.”

“That’s a shame,” Clarke teases, smirking when he reddens. It’s an attractive blush to go with his nice smile and excellent upper body. If he’s the boyfriend Octavia has mentioned Clarke is going to disappointed. She’s also going to feel guilty, both for checking him out and for the innuendo.

“I was just trying to figure out whether sitting down is going to wrinkle my cape,” she explains, wrangling the fabric so it’s not crumpled beneath her. “And it’s Clarke, by the way.”

“Bellamy.”

“What are you in for?”

“I’m having surgery to repair my ACL.” She winces and he lets a soft laugh loose. “Yeah. It could be worse, but it’s no walk in the park.”

“It’s pretty bad,” Clarke says fairly. “And you won’t be feeling up to a walk in the park anytime soon. Dr. Sinclair is your surgeon?”

“Yeah. You know him?”

"I know just about everybody who works at this hospital. I’m a resident here.”

“ _Doctor_ Princess,” he says, sounding impressed. “Is the Elsa costume part of your dress code? Not that you don’t look great. I’m just worried it might impede your work.”

“Don’t worry,” she laughs. “I’m not saving lives in this outfit. It’s my day off.”

“So naturally you dress up as a Disney princess and hang out at your place of employment.”

“It’s part of a program on the Pediatrics floor. I used to volunteer for them before I worked here, and they’re a princess short this week. They caught me yesterday and asked if I’d mind filling in.”

“And you said yes?” He asks, dubious.

“My mom is a surgeon,” she explains. “I grew up in hospitals, especially in pediatric playrooms, so I made friends with a lot of sick children when I was younger. I have a hard time forgetting how much a program like this can brighten a day for one of those kids.”

“If it helps, you’ve definitely made my hospital experience better.” He sounds so genuine she can’t help the warmth that blooms in her chest.

“Then my day wasn’t a total waste,” Clarke smiles. He’s blushing again and starting to say something else when Octavia returns from the bathroom.

“Oh, hey Clarke! I’m glad you guys met.”

“Took you long–” Bellamy starts to say, but breaks off with a snort. “What are you wearing?”

“I’m Pocahontas,” Octavia says in a _duh_ voice, looking down at her costume as if trying to see it through Bellamy’s eyes. She looks great, in Clarke’s opinion. Besides, Pocahontas is one of Clarke’s personal favorites. When she was little she used to drag her friend Wells around the playroom, jumping off the couch and singing about painting with all the colors of the wind.

“She’s scamming you,” Bellamy tells Clarke. “She’s not even partly Native American.”

“Maybe we’re scamming children together,” Clarke points out. “I can’t build an ice palace out of magic. Besides, the volunteers buy our own costumes so they let us pick which princess we’re gonna be.”

“And you picked Pocahontas?”

“Get over it,” Octavia says, rolling her eyes.

“What’s wrong with Pocahontas?” Clarke asks curiously.

“Don’t get him–”

“Everything is wrong with Pocahontas. That movie is a totally inaccurate portrayal of the real historical figure.”

“I like her, so suck it,” Octavia says, pulling her hair out of its ponytail. “Besides, half these kids have never seen Pocahontas so I can tell them the real story. Expose them to the harsh realities of the world early.”

“You’re a true hero, O. After you’re done disillusioning our youth with the horrors of imperialism, are you going to have time to come back here?”

“Sorry big brother. I gotta get to the Center.” Clarke perks up at the family implication, though she’s not sure she has a chance with Bellamy while she’s dressed like this. “I can send Lincoln your way if you want someone here.”

“Nah,” Bellamy says, waving a hand at her. “I’ll be okay. I’ll see you after work?”

“Of course.” She crosses the room to hug her brother. “I hope it goes well. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He looks over at Clarke. “See you around, Princess.”

“Good luck with the surgery.”

After a few hours Octavia is relieved by Maya– who makes a perfect Snow White– so that she can get over to the community center where she runs an after school program.

Clarke finishes her shift and is headed to the parking lot when she passes Bellamy’s floor. On a whim, she decides to stop by his room.

He’s back from his surgery and clearly in an anesthetic-induced daze. She’s honestly surprised he’s still awake.

“Hey,” she says, repressing a giggle when his head lolls in her direction. He smiles broadly at her, like she’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. “Remember me?”

“Princess.” His deep voice is husky and slurred, yet Clarke can hear how pleased he is to see someone. She’s spent plenty of lonely hours in hospitals, so she knows how it can be.

“Technically I’m a queen,” she points out, checking his chart. “It looks like everything went well. How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he insists, flapping his hand at her absently, then staring at it in surprise when it passes his face. “You _look_ like a princess.”

“It’s probably the outfit,” Clarke says, amused.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I mean– You’re pretty. Like a princess should be. And nice. Cartoon animals would totally hang out with you.”

“Yeah?” She takes a seat back in the chair and debates filming this for posterity and/or the internet. “I wouldn’t mind a sidekick.”

“Sidekick,” he nods emphatically. His eyes are starting to droop. “That’s the word I was– Wow, oh wow, I’m tired.”

“That’ll be the painkillers. You should try to sleep. Time will pass faster that way.”

“But I have to get your number first,” he says, his eyes fully closed now. Clarke bites her lip to keep from laughing– not that he’d see– and picks his phone up from the bedside table.

“What’s your passcode?”

He’s coherent enough to mumble it and she sends herself a text from his phone, saving her number under ‘Princess.’

She’s not sure he’ll remember any of this conversation, so she waits a few days and when she doesn’t receive any messages from him, she texts him, _How’s the knee?_

To her surprise, her phone begins to ring a few minutes later, Bellamy’s number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Clarke?” He sounds genuinely baffled.

“So you do know my name.”

“And, apparently, your number.”

“Yeah, you asked me for it when I dropped by to check on you after your surgery.”

“And you gave it to me?”

“It was endearing,” she promises.

“Wow,” he laughs. “Drugged-up Bellamy has more game than I thought. I definitely would have called you sooner, except, you know, I had no idea I could.”

“You could have,” Clarke protests. “Octavia has my info.”

“I figured I’d try to orchestrate another in-person encounter before I subjected myself to her teasing.”

“That should be easier now that you know you have my number,” Clarke says, realizing suddenly that she’s got a smile on her face. She’s glad she’s alone in the locker room, otherwise she’d have to be embarrassed about it.

“Good point.” He pauses. “So what are you doing tonight?”

“Eager,” Clarke laughs. “I get off work around eight.”

“Awesome. How do you feel about a late dinner? I was gonna order Thai food, so you could come over? If you want. I’m not really mobile right now–”

“I like Thai,” Clarke says, gently cutting off his babbling. “Send me your address and I’ll come over after my shift.”

“Really?” He sounds surprised but, she hopes, delighted. “I could be a serial killer.”

“I’m pretty sure I could outrun you in your current condition. And that Octavia would avenge my death. I’ll take my chances.”

When she arrives at his apartment, she knocks and he yells, “Come on in, it’s open!”

“I could have been a serial killer,” Clarke teases, feeling warm again inside when he beams at her.

“It was either a serial killer or it was you. It was worth the risk,” he shrugs, patting the couch next to him. His leg is elevated on the coffee table, which also holds an impressive amount of takeout, and when she settles in next to him, he hands her a plate and a pair of chopsticks.

“I know this is a pretty shitty first date, but I really wanted to see you sooner than I’ll be up and walking.”

“No, really, this is great,” Clarke assures him, loading her plate up. “All I ever want to do when I get home is veg out. And I’m the one who texted you. I wanted to see you, too.” He ducks his head to hide his grin.

“I guess this is slightly better than me, doped up, in a hospital gown. My hopes of impressing you aren’t that high, if I’m being honest.”

“Let me remind you that I was wearing an Elsa costume when we met,” she says, reaching over to squeeze his hand. He squeezes back. “Besides, if this goes well, there will be other dates. You can impress me then.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He does go all out, a few months later, to impress her, but by that point she’s far enough gone for him that it doesn’t really make a difference.

**Author's Note:**

> And without a single Let it Go joke. *pats self on back* *bangs head on wall* Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
